Mugo Mukunya is a man who knew me before I knew myself. Who taught me to question everything, reminded me often that “life is not fair,” and inspired a lifelong affair with books. He is a man who has been many things—an effortless charmer and duplicitous often—but to me, he has always been ‘Dad.’ Ours, a relationship bound by blood and geography.Read More
These Letters are for you, for me, and for anyone who has ever felt lost.
The conversations in this project spanned two continents and three countries with individuals who, collectively, have lived in twelve different countries and identify as African. I imagined each of these dialogues as Letters: letters to each other as Africans, letters to the things we want to remember and the things we have forgotten. Letters to the people we have been and the ones we want to be. With each Letter, I asked the question, “What does home mean to you?” The answers, though not always direct, were illuminating.
(N.B. Some letters have yet to be published)
I met Nimo Farah by pure chance though we had always existed in the same circles—breathing the same dreams and whispering the same wishes. When I met her, she was like frequency moving through air or like the calming motion of the ocean rocking itself to sleep. She was kinetic energy.Read More
I am one week into Nairobi when I meet up with Rageh: a college friend I haven’t seen in years though we’ve always maintained a fondness for each other’s radicalness. Since I last saw him in Minneapolis, he has done stints in London, Somalia and Nairobi. It is early afternoon when he picks me at a coffee shop in South B—one of Nairobi’s southern suburbs.Read More
I hadn't expected to interview Lucky for Letters, but I have the good sense to never turn down the chance to sit with someone interesting. By the time we were done, Lucky would leave me questioning the Kenyan identity I had held onto with such pride for nearly three decades, bringing to mind Arundhati Roy's words, "What is this love we have for countries?"Read More